


Role Model

by Luki



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Bodyswap, Dabi is a Todoroki, Dimension Travel, Gen, No longer remotely canon adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luki/pseuds/Luki
Summary: Through no fault of his own, Xanxus finds himself in another world, trapped in the body of the No. 2 Hero.  At least he has some entertainment, in the form of an angry, scarred, broken son...
Comments: 59
Kudos: 1204
Collections: Identity Crisis, Reincarnation and Transmigration





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Several months ago, in the dead of night
> 
> My Brain: Hey, you know what?
> 
> Me: It’s 2am, why are we not sleeping???
> 
> My Brain: If Dabi IS Todoroki Touya, then it means he’s a character that was trained for a future role he couldn’t have, that was taken away from him by his father figure due to circumstances outwith his control, was heavily scarred because of it, and as a result; wants to kill said father figure.
> 
> Me: …And?
> 
> My Brain: …And who would you say that describes almost perfectly?
> 
> Me:…
> 
> …
> 
> No. Nonononono! I do not need another plot bunny setting up shop in my-and we’re already getting out of bed and writing this down before we forget aren’t we?
> 
> My Brain: ^_^
> 
> To no one's surprise, another bodyswap fic!

Xanxus would really like to know why, when other Trash screw up, he’s the one who has to pay for it.

Seriously, if it’s not his asshole of a not-Father lying his face off for a decade, it’s the baby-Trash getting flung into the future and knocking out the entire Varia high command for 48 hours while they process an additional decade of memories, or some kind of ramen-eating-God trying to kill his Mist via flame-devouring-pacifiers before he shoves one on Xanxus to do the same.

And people wonder why he has a short temper. He’s a reasonable man! Just give him a mission that doesn’t involve everything he’s ever known getting flung into a blender with a side of magical-crap and tossed 180 degrees in the air. Whatever happened to good old Mafioso shoot outs and negotiation’s over dinner?

…God he misses assassinations pre-flame bullshit. They were so much more fun when he was the only one in the room that knew how to use them.

And now…this. 

In the toilet attached to the lavish meeting room he’d found himself in, he leans over the sink and scowls at the face in the mirror. A good decade older than he should be, with red, spiky hair and matching stubble on his chin. In-arguably Asian features, with skin paler than his own had ever been, and shoulders like goddamn Levi.

For fucks sake! Now he has to deal with idiot-Trash in other universes screwing him over? This kind of thing is supposed to happen to the Baby-Trash! Not him!

* * *

He’s still not entirely sure what happened. One minute, he’s enjoying the last glass of scotch the Bronco-Trash sent over in gratitude for a job well done; the next, his brain’s free falling into nothing. For a brief moment, panic had taken over, and - positive he was being put under the Zero Point again - lashed out the second he could use his arms.

This resulted in him knocking out someone leaning over his body, and when he heard metal smashing against hard floor – two things that shouldn’t have been anywhere near him - his eyes slammed open to reveal the inside of an ambulance, and a very nervous looking medic overlooking him.

“Endeavour, please relax,” he urges in Japanese, trying to retain eye contact as he kneels down to check on his prone partner. “We’re still checking for any other effects from the Villain’s quirk. Do you feel okay? Is there any negative blowback?”

Xanxus just glares at him, trying to piece the words together and wondering why the hell Squalo had called in an ambulance when they have a Quality medical team in the damn mansion, before his eyes catch a glimpse of his legs.

He can’t stop gaping as turns and takes in his full body, pulling up his hands in furious disbelief.

“What the fuck?” he yells, turning them over as if the front will be any less ridiculous.

Xanxus has never, in his life, worn something this humiliating. It’s a skin tight (almost obscenely so), navy blue bodysuit with orange highlights, along with white bracer’s that go up half his arm and a pair of knee high boots – all of which reek like they’ve been hung to dry in a building undergoing an arson attack.

His first thought, is that whatever Mist did this is going to pay. Painfully.

“Endeavour, what’s wrong?” the man asks again, only to squawk as Xanxus shoves him with the heavy hand and stumbles to his feet, jumping out the door.

What he sees when he staggers outside the ambulance doesn’t help the situation. While there’s cameras, they don’t look like they’re filming so much as reporting. There’s chaos outside, but the citizens trapped behind yellow tape have him wondering if someone drugged his booze. Horns, wings, two heads…so many people in the crowd are just ‘off’ in a way that doesn’t make sense. 

An even deeper glance in front of the tape doesn’t make things any easier. One of the men – he’s assuming police – has a cat head, while there are several men and woman dressed even more ridiculous than he is. One of them is dressed feet-to-nose in fucking denim! 

There are so many possible scenarios, and one is not raised by Vongola standards without acknowledging the truly ridiculous. As such, the realisation comes very quickly. This is not his world. Not even remotely.

Denim-Trash is starting to make his way towards him, and he can feel the paramedics staring at his back. His eyes flick down to his hand, and he tries to reach for his flames – searching for the primal rage and right of rule that encompass his entire will.

But there’s nothing. His core feels empty. Not sealed, but rather, just not there. Wherever he is. _Whoever_ he is, flames don’t exist.

No flames.

That…complicates things.

The man in the ridiculous denim getup appraises him.

“You’re not Endeavour, are you?” he says. Xanxus looks him over. Considers his options.

“What makes you say that?” he growls. Denim-Trash raises one eyebrow.

“Endeavour would be screaming blue murder at being put in an ambulance where anyone could see him.”

Well doesn’t ‘Endeavour’ sound like a charmer. Not that Xanxus would act any differently, but he’d never need the fucking ambulance in the first place. 

The survivalist in him wants to play along. Bluff his way into solitude until he can figure out what’s happening. But the Boss part of him has already lined up his options. There’s just too many variables here. If he wants home, he’s not going to figure it out alone.

He huffs and crosses his arms.

“No,” he admits. “Looks like somebody royally screwed up.”

Denim-Trash sighs, and runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair.

“And to think, I thought this was going to be a slow week…”

* * *

He’s immediately ushered to a tall skyscraper not too far away from the incident site, and taken straight to the top floor, where the office of his ‘host’ resides. There, he finds his way to the bathroom he now finds himself in, trying to compose himself while he figures out what the fuck to do. Denim-Trash had handed him off to some kind of support staff, but it had been clear nobody had wanted to answer any questions until they had him contained.

It at least gives him time to recover. He desperately wants a drink, if only so he can throw something at the assholes who are going to come escort him again. 

The information he has is limited. There was a phone in his host’s pocket, but without knowing the code it was useless. All he can go on is what he’s seen. This city looks very Japanese, but the people barely qualify as human. And the advertisements are all showing people he doesn’t recognise, who look like they should be hand drawn on the front of the comic books he used to read as a kid. 

His flames are also gone, and as far as he can tell, the concept doesn’t exist here. But this outfit was designed to handle fire, and he keeps hearing the word ‘quirk,’ which makes him think there might be something else that substituted on a more mainstream level. 

When he hears voices entering the office, he slams the door of the bathroom open and strides into like he’s not dressed like some idiot on a Sentai show. He gives a huff of approval as he takes in the room again – the idiot’s whose body he’s somehow possessing might have awful taste in clothes, but he at least knows what he’s doing with interior decorating. 

There are five arrivals when he drops into the plush office seat, and he makes a point to push it away from the computer. Along with Denim-Trash, one of them is dressed worse than he is and looks terrified to be here, while another screams ‘cop’ with his suit. The third is an old woman, who merely cocks her eyebrow as Xanxus glides over the floor in the chair, and at her back is a man about Xanxus’s age, dressed in shapeless black and the world’s ugliest scarf. Seriously, if his Sun was here, that thing would already be aflame, and the world would be better off for it. 

He leans on one hand and scowls.

“So?” he asks. “Figured out how to undo this yet, Trash?”

Terrified makes a squeak that reminds him of the Baby-Trash, but it’s Scarf-Trash that steps forward.

“We spoke to the Villain who attacked Endeavour, and tried to deactivate his quirk,” he explains. “Unfortunately, once activated, it can’t be shut off.”

Xanxus files away the term ‘quirk’ for future research, and Cop-Trash starts speaking.

“Three days,” he says. “That’s how long it takes to wear off. Which is three days longer than anyone really wants the number 2 hero out of commission.”

“To be honest, it might be to our benefit,” the old lady adds. “Endeavour is known for burning the candle at both ends, no pun intended. A few days of forced relaxation could be just what he needs. More importantly, I want to know exactly who we’re dealing with in the mean time.”

Xanxus immediately titles her as the smartest person he’s met so far. Nobody else has even thought to ask.

“Yes,” the cop says. “According the registry, his quirk swaps a person’s mind with someone of a similar mindset. However, he also said that quite often, the people he brings do not seem familiar with this world.”

All of them - minus Terrified, who looks like he wants to sink into the floor – face him with curious looks. Scarf-Trash also has a hand on his accessory, while Denim’s fingers are twitching. 

“So, who are you?” Scarf-Trash asks. “And what’s your quirk? According to records, it varies on whether or not it follows.”

Xanxus stares back, glaring in challenge. The Cop’s eyes slide away, but the other three match him head on. His lips twitch slightly in respect.

“My name is Xanxus,” he offers. “And where I come from, superheroes belong in comic books. I’ve never heard of ‘quirks’ before today.”

Terrified seems to perk up at that, and the others seem somewhat relieved.

“Well, this world may seem a little strange to you, but I promise you’ll be kept in good hands,” the older woman offers. “And I’m sure Endeavour will try to keep a low profile until his return.”

Xanxus thinks about what would happen if a self proclaimed hero suddenly landed in the middle of the Varia mansion, and can’t fight the snort of laughter that follows. It makes the old woman frown.

“That amuses you?” she asks, and Xanxus grins.

“My world is a lot more dangerous” he tells them. “The criminal underworld is still a thriving commodity, and no quirks, so we don’t have heroes, and don’t look kindly on those that think that’s an option.”

Well, not unless you count a certain brat in Japan who still seems to think he can make the mafia a nice place through the power of _friendship…_

“It’s a cruel irony,” he continues. “Your Endeavour isn’t going to know what to do with himself. Better not get himself killed before we swap back.”

Their faces go dark, and Xanxus allows himself to grin. If it’ll kick their asses into gear and get them to figure out how to get him home quicker, he’ll tell them anything they need to know.

“What about yourself?” Scarf-Trash asks. “Not a hero, and no quirk, what is it you do back home?”

Xanxus quickly amends his earlier thought. Certain things would not go over well in such company, and he’s still not sure how well he can defend himself. It’s probably going to be better for everyone if he doesn’t mention his own personal alliance. He’s sure Endeavour will do a _fine_ job of explaining that once his traumatised ass returns.

“I run a field office that’s part of my adopted father’s company,” he bluffs. “Lot of classified, high pressure, time sensitive work. Not looking forward to having it sit on a desk for 3 days. My employees are going to go mental.”

There’s an understatement. He guarantee’s Levi is already halfway through a mental breakdown, and Squalo will be screaming at whatever idiot made the mistake of walking down the hall. Bel will take the opportunity to go ‘play’ - hopefully not with Xanxus’s body - and Mammon is already charging him for the inconvenience of this whole affair. He’s calling it now.

On the plus side, his audience seem to buy it.

“Well then, Xanxus,” the cop says. “We’ll do our best to get you back as soon as possible. Until then, I hope you’re willing to work with us to mitigate the damage.”

Xanxus rolls his eyes.

“What do you Trash want me to do?”

* * *

In the end, his jury decide that since Xanxus doesn’t have a quirk, and doesn’t appear to be able to use Endeavour's (fire, which makes sense and is something he might see about rectifying while he waits), that they’ll hide him in his host’s home for the three days. The man’s family has already been informed, but if he steps out of line, they’ll be taking him back into custody.

It could be worse, he guesses. He’s in the body of someone important, which means they won’t do anything too damaging to him, and they’re working as fast as they can to get this Endeavour guy back. He doubts he needs to do anything but stand aside and let them work. Since he’s the victim of a quirk and had no say, he’s clearly being treated with kid gloves. 

No, the biggest threat to getting home is, ironically, _home_. If Endeavour is a- oh for fucks sake he can’t believe he’s saying this with a straight face – hero, having him land in Xanxus’s body will not end well for anyone. The Varia are many things, and most of them are obvious – not even the densest man on the planet could look at them and think they were anything but criminals. Which means he might run, and that’ll end badly since he’ll be eyeball deep in Mafia territory and probably try to find, ugh, _law enforcement_. God willing, his inability to speak the language will convince the Vindice that it’s clearly not Xanxus doing it and keep him out of Vendicare.

Then again, that might be preferable for Endeavour trying to act his way out of it. For all his complaints, his men are Quality, and trained to spot possession and plants. If Squalo or Bel don’t notice something is off within five minutes, Mammon **will**. The lot of them are crazy, not stupid, which means when he gets back, his body will probably be covered in additional scars from ‘interrogation’ while they try to get him back ‘Varia-Style.’ They definitely won’t call in Vongola’s tech team till they’ve tried their own avenues, and Xanxus just prays they confirm that it’s his body before they let Lussuria bring out his ‘toys.’ 

He really wants a drink, but he’s expected to keep this body in top condition, and no doubt the man’s family will want their precious hero in one piece, so it’s going to be a long three days unless he can sneak something. Or maybe Endeavour will turn out to be a secret alcoholic and he’ll be just fine. If not, he’s going to need to find something for entertainment, or flame or no flames, something is going to burn.

‘Terrified’ is apparently some kind of support aide for Endeavour’s agency, and is put in charge of handling Xanxus while he hides out. It doesn’t fill him with confidence – the man is definitely used to sitting in the back and giving ‘yes, sir, no sir,’ answers. As such, he’s not putting much stock in the Todoroki family bios the man is awkwardly stuttering out as they drive to his temporary home. It sounds like the blurb for some crappy sitcom. A stay at home wife, two teens, a pre-teen and a brat, all living in harmony. The eldest son was supposed to be following in his fathers footsteps, but had to hold back on applying due to illness. The daughter is a perfect Nadeshiko in training, the next boy is thinking about medical school at fucking 12, and the youngest is already on the path to enter hero school in a few years.

Xanxus is the last person to ask about functioning families, but there’s no way this happy cookie cutter description can be accurate.

The car rolls up to a lavish Japanese style house, and Xanxus gives it an approving nod. He’s always preferred Western design, but he won’t deny quality when he sees it. The security is actually much better than he’d expected too – proper walls and cameras set up in a manner that means he’s there's no obvious holes.

When they stop, the front door opens to reveal the Todoroki family, and his good mood evaporates. The woman is a twig, hands a little tight on the youngest boy, whose hair would probably make his Sun squeal. Both of them are looking at him with some suspicion. For that matter, so are the pre-teen and the girl. However, to the side…

The oldest boy has a shock of red hair similar to his current body, and while he refuses to meet Xanxus in the eye for more than a few seconds, his body language is clear. He’s relieved.

Interesting.

Terrified has been speaking to the wife while he took in his own impressions, but he turns his attention back when he realises they’re looking at him.

“It’s strange,” the woman says. “You still look so much like him. The expressions are…well, very familiar.”

She gives a strained smile, and Xanxus feels satisfaction curl inside at the pain the woman is hiding. 

‘ _I knew it. This Endeavour fucker isn’t half as honourable as they think.’_

“I’m Rei,” she continues, oblivious to Xanxus having read her actions. “We’ll set you up in one of the guest bedrooms for now, is that okay?”

“Is Dad really gone right now?” The pre-teen pipes up, and Rei’s head turns sharply in his direction.

“Natsuo!”

The boy in question pouts. 

“What? If he’s gone, that means we can play with Shouto today right? He can’t be trained right now.”

The youngest, still pinned by Rei’s hands, looks up at his mother with something resembling hope. Her eyes flicker between him and Xanxus, unsure what to say.

“I haven’t got the slightest clue what training Endeavour-Trash was doing,” Xanxus says, making the decision for her. “Do what you want.”

The little brat and the pre-teen both grin, but Xanxus notices the red head turning to look at them-

Oh, now that’s interesting. It’s not there for long, but there’s a very specific array of emotions flashing on the teen’s face when he looks at his youngest sibling. They’re gone almost too quick to notice, but Xanxus caught it all.

He’s the only one though, as the girl takes his comment as an invitation, suspicion fading away as she steps forward and into a quick bow.

“I’m Fuyumi,” she says. “We’ll try to make your stay as comfortable as possible. Is there anything you need?”

A drink and a plane ticket to Italy, Xanxus thinks, but he doesn’t answer, choosing to stare at the boy on the end. 

There’s something about the Trash’s appearance that’s bothering him, and he can’t figure out what. His hair is long, definitely grown to hide his face, and he has the personality of a mouse judging from how much effort it takes to get him to raise it for more than a few moments. Every inch of his body is covered, from the turtle-neck down to the combat boots. Given that it’s not a cold day and everyone bar Xanxus is in shorts, it’s probably a style choice. But whenever he does look up, he’s grinning, and trying to hide it – between that and the earlier interaction, Xanxus makes his mind up rather quickly.

“How about a tour of this place?” Xanxus asks, and points at the teen. “Yo, Trash, show me where I’m allowed to go.”

That gets the boy’s head up. “W-what? Me?”

Fuyumi looks a little blind sided, as does Rei, and Natsuo is frowning, but Xanxus just nods.

“Yeah, you,” he says. “That a problem?”

“Touya?” Fuyumi asks, glancing at her other brother, but the teen – Touya, Xanxus tries to remember – just swallows and gives a shaky nod.

“Okay. I can do that,” he says, and gestures with his arm. “Follow me.”

Xanxus grins and does just that, passing the confused family and immediately tossing them out of his mind for now. When they enter the building, the boy risks looking up at him, agitation on his face for the first time.

“Why me?” he asks. “Fuyumi would have done it.”

“I didn’t want Fuyumi-Trash to do it,” Xanxus said. “You’re more interesting.”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, and Xanxus smiles – the expression slipping off when Touya flinches.

“Your old man, he’s Trash, isn’t he?”

The teen at his side pauses as he walks down the hall. 

“He…Endeavour is the Number 2 hero in Japan,” he replies.

“And my old man is one of the most powerful men in the world,” Xanxus counters. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a piss poor father.”

Ah, there is is. Touya’s lips peel back in a wicked smile for a quick second, and Xanxus goes in for the kill.

“I picked you, because you’re the only one in this family not trying to hide it.”

Another flinch, and then the teen looks up at him, confusion in his eyes. Xanxus faces him head on.

“I saw the look you gave the baby brat, Trash,” he tells him. “Back when he learned he didn’t have to ‘train.’ I might have only gotten the media approved profiles, but I’ve seen this before.”

God has he ever seen it before. Resentment at a sibling, followed by guilt for feeling resentment, finished off with anger at the whole situation. He knows that look well. Before his brother’s died, when the Ninth chose them one after the other instead of him, he wore it on a daily basis.

Before he knew why, and resentment and guilt disintegrated into pure rage. 

Touya almost looks afraid, and his eyes are getting wider by the second. Xanxus grins.

Looks like he’s found his entertainment.

“I’ve got three days here, Trash,” he says. “Quality can destroy worlds in one. So why don’t you tell me what’s really going on in this house?”


	2. Chapter 2

As the teen walks him through the house under the guise of showing him around, he lays bare the true story of Todoroki Enji, including the little nuggets the media doesn’t share about their second most popular hero.

_“He was fast-tracked into the hero courses before he was eight years old. Endeavour was part of a huge push for more obvious and flashy quirks – the government were really starting to encourage the marketing factor of heroes by then...”_

_-_

_“He’s been chasing All Might’s shadow ever since he graduated. He made it to Number 2 in record time, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t surpass him...”_

_-_

_Quirk Marriages are illegal, but he found a way to hide it. Mom didn’t realise what she’d gotten into until it was too late...”_

_-_

The story Touya tells has no real surprises. A man desperate to achieve domination, an arranged marriage, and an obsessive need for the perfect heir.

“He used to train me relentlessly,” he explains as he guides Xanxus around the outside of the house. “Four years old, and the second my quirk showed up, my life belonged to him. Life was nothing but training, training, training. Nothing I did was ever enough. After Fuyumi and Natsuo were born, he got even madder. None of his had the quirk he wanted. With every failure, he just got angrier, and my training got harder.”

As he talks, Touya’s hand rises up and scratches under his neck. Xanxus is fairly certain he doesn’t know he’s doing it. It’s clearly a nervous twitch.

“Something went wrong,” Xanxus concludes. Touya gives a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he says. “My quirk is too strong for my body. He realised too late he’d overdone it. Doctors said I’d and gone and caused ‘irreparable damage during my critical growth years’ or something. Then Shouto was born.”

Xanxus raises an eyebrow when he hears the spite in the voice.

“It’s stupid,” Touya says. “I know it’s not his fault, but everything just got worse once he was born. I knew the second Mom brought him home that Dad got what he wanted, that hair was enough of a tell that he’d probably have his dream quirk. She knew it too.”

His hand's clench. “Maybe she felt bad that she didn’t defend me, but Mom spends every second she has trying to give Shouto something resembling a childhood. It was easier before his quirk showed up, but when it did, something broke.”

“Parents at war with each other?” Xanxus concludes.

“Yeah. You’ve seen Mom, she’s hanging on by a thread. The old man is throwing Shouto through the same training I got, and she saw enough with me that this time around, she’s trying to do something about it. Fuyumi and Natsuo get left out in the cold.”

Xanxus nods. “And you?”

Touya stops, and Xanxus grins at the anger on his face.

“Once Shouto’s quirk showed up, my training stopped,” Touya snaps. “He even forbid me from applying to any hero schools. Said my injuries and general state ‘weren’t suitable for it.’ Like I hadn’t spent every second of my life preparing for it. As if I’d ever been allowed to think about having any other future!

As quick as it comes, the anger fades. No...the boy forces it back, choking on the words.

“No, it’s stupid,” Touya mutters. “I should be grateful. Now I don’t have to live in his shadow. I can figure out what I want to do, not what he expects.”

“Is that what you really think, Trash?” Xanxus asks, and Touya halts. “Or is that was everyone’s told you to think?”

“...The guest bedroom is over here,” Touya mumbles, and starts walking. Xanxus smirks and follows.

The guest room is about as generic as they come by Asian standards – bed, wardrobe, drawers, sofa chair in the corner. Xanxus is willing to bet his best scotch it was never intended for actual use, and exists solely because a wealthy family is expected to have at least one. He chases Touya away to get whatever passes for civilian wear that will fit, and happily strips out of the ridiculous getup and straight into a shower. The water is gloriously warm, especially on the muscles he’s starting to realise are tighter than he’d like. Credit where credit is due, Endeavour clearly does give 100% in his job, Xanxus will give him that.

There are clothes on the bed when he enters, jogging pants, a tank top and a hoodie. Far more casual than he likes – Xanxus hasn’t worn anything that wasn’t tailor made or carrying the Varia emblem since he was twelve, but when in Rome…

He’s pulling on the hoodie when there’s a knock at the door, and he finds Endeavour’s only daughter standing there, looking fairly nervous. What the hell was her name again…

“Fuyuki?” Xanxus guesses. The girl blushes and looks down.

“Oh, um, Fuyumi,” she corrects, and shoves a thin piece of plastic and metal towards him in a half bow. “Touya thought you might want this. To help learn about the world.”

Xanxus grabs the item and presses a button to the side. Looks like a tiny laptop with no keyboard...memories of the future that wasn’t trickle in – it’s some kind of tablet. No password – probably belongs to one of the brats, or an old one.

“Do you need some help on how to use it?” Fuyumi asks, still nervous. Xanxus scoffs.

“I’ve got this, brat,” he replies, and she squeaks as he slams the door closed. By the time he’s slumped onto the bed and opened up the search function to type in ‘quirks,’ she’s left his mind entirely.

* * *

He hides away in the room for several hours, the device a priceless source of information. It’s rather frustrating that he can’t smuggle it back home – while the ten year future knowledge did wonders for Vongola’s tech squad, this is still several years ahead of their current tech.

The information it provides however, is far less interesting.

Oh, sure, quirks in general are fascinating. As if somebody took all the weird flame mutations that show up every now and then and started tossing them out of everyone. Xanxus is rather grateful they don’t exist in his world – flames are hard enough to control, and there’s a limit to what they can do. Random mutations always through spanners in the works. But the world built up around them...less so.

Granted, he’s only scratched the public surface, and without proper access to the darknet and Quality researchers he can only do so much, but Vongola is a business on top of a criminal empire, and Xanxus runs an Assassination squad. To put it simply, he’s been trained to subconsciously look for weaknesses in organisations, to find the weak links in order to profit, since he was four foot high. And just a basic re-con sweep have shown serious flaws in how law enforcement operates in the world. Granted, he can see how it happened – if Byakuran managed to take over multiple worlds by making flames public, he can only imagine what an equally powerful force appearing in a world without the mafia to suppress it would do to society – but flaws become cracks, and cracks eventually rip things apart.

When he walks outside, the light has started to dim, and he conjures up his memory to navigate towards the kitchen. He can smell something cooking, and when he walks past the living room, Fuyumi and the white haired pre-teen are already eating, while Touya is at the edge of the table, picking at a near empty plate. As he watches, the wife and her youngest brat walk in, setting down their own plates.

“Everyone finish quickly,” Rei says. “I’ll go bring our guest a dish.”

“No need,” Touya says, dropping his chopsticks into his bowl. “He’s already here.”

Everyone’s heads snap towards the door, and Xanxus snorts. Touya’s training is clearly showing – he hadn’t even lifted his head once.

“Don’t bother yourselves, Trash,” he says. “I’ll grab it myself. Any booze I can take.”

Rei is wringing her hands, glancing between her kids and him.

“Um...there’s some light beer on the top shelf of the fridge,” she says. “The stir fry is on the hotplate.”

Xanxus nods, and walks off. First stop is the fridge, where he looks at a few random alcoholic cans, but pushes them aside to grab a six-pack hidden at the back. It’s weak shit, but it’ll do – he hasn’t been this sober since before the ice.

He’s scooping up a decent bowl of the rice dish (heavy on the meat, thank whatever passes for God in this world), when Touya wanders in, dropping the bowl into the sink. Xanxus gives him an assessing glance.

“You don’t get along with your siblings.”

The teen pauses. “I like them just fine.”

“I didn’t say you don’t like them,” Xanxus replies. “You spent your childhood training, they didn’t. They think they know the worst of your father, but they don’t. Probably think now that you’re free from his training, that you can spend time with them, but you’ve got nothing to talk about with the Trash.”

“They’re not Trash!” Touya snaps back, and Xanxus smirks, looking into the sink.

“But you go out of your way to eat before everyone else so you can cut out early,” he says. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you don’t want them close.”

Touya looks away, and Xanxus takes the opportunity to dig through the drawers for western cutlery, and starts heading towards his room. No power on this earth is going to make him eat around kids. A wicked smile creeps onto his face when he hears Touya following – he stays silent until Xanxus gets to his door.

“You don’t know me,” he says, anger in his voice. “You don’t know anything about this world.”

Xanxus half kicks the door open, and gives him a mocking glare.

“Between what you told me about this family, and the research on this world today, I think I know enough,” he tells him. “I see the forest, not the trees.”

He walks into the room, tossing the cans on the bed and heading straight for the sofa chair in the corner.

“Close the door behind you, Trash,” he says, grinning as Touya slumps into the room, obeying the order.

“Why are you so interested in me?” Touya asks. “You said it’s because of my father, but you’ve never met them.”

Touya’s eyes glance away.

“I shouldn’t,” he says in a quiet voice. “If anyone hears-”

“I’m not going to exist here in another two days Trash,” Xanxus reminds him. “Anything you tell me leaves with me.”

Touya bites his lip, assessing him. Whatever he sees in his face convinces him though, and he sits on the ground opposite Xanxus’s chair.

“Sometimes I think the hero culture is broken,” Touya admits. “Natsuo and Fuyumi, they weren’t allowed to consider heroics, they weren’t powerful enough, so they don’t really pay attention to it. And Shouto’s still young, he’s fascinated by the merchandise and the advertising – the world is black and white. He’ll learn, but not for a while.”

Xanxus smirks. Looks like his hunch was on the mark – while most of the world have their heads in the sand, this kid gets it. Or at least is starting to take off the blinders.

“Maybe it started out as a good idea,” Touya continues. “But the more I look as a failed trainee, the more I see. You can’t fuse law enforcement and celebrity status and come out on top. Police are banned from accepting gifts, while we pay heroes to open up entertainment centres. Heroes are elevated to upper society, so they can get away with more. Nobody wants to touch them, because if they do, they take away this...feeling of safety, or superiority, that we all rely on for society to function.”

Xanxus is grinning as he leans over and grabs a beer can from the bed.

“Congratulations. Only took you most of your life, while I figured it out in a few hours, but you did start at a disadvantage.”

Touya’s eyes widen as he cracks open the can and takes a deep swallow. God did he need that.

“You see it too?”

Xanxus crushes the can, and then tosses it at the teens head. He winces and blocks with his arm, looking irritated.

“Trust me Brat, society always has two sides,” Xanxus tells him. “The shiny, happy land people get shovelled down their throats and desperately want to believe, and the seedy underbelly that makes up the foundations. I don’t care how ‘good’ your heroes are, where there’s power, there’s corruption.”

It’s not something Touya had clearly expected to hear. The anger in his eyes dim, and he sits on the floor, curling his arms around his knees. Xanxus glances down at the huddled teen, and decides to press.

“The fact that your father is so popular is proof of that. I bet even that ‘All Might-Trash’ has some skeletons in his closet, the kind that a publicist gets a very fat paycheck to hide.”

Touya’s head lifts from his arms and frowns.

“You really think so?” he asks, and Xanxus scoffs as he gets to his feet.

“I know this kid back home. Can’t fucking stand him, but everyone treats him like he’s the second coming or some shit. Always standing up for his friends and fighting the good fight. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever known to a hero.”

He smirks down at the teen watching him with fascinated eyes.

“And he’s also a whiny, dumb, selfish, lazy piece of trash,” he finishes. “Who wouldn’t have done half of his heroic deeds if there hadn’t been a gun to his head. Trust me, heroes don’t exist.”

He pulls the teen to his feet, and drags him to the door – where he quickly throws him out.

“Night brat.”

* * *

The next morning, Xanxus is rather rudely awoken by sheets on fire. He squawks and attempts a drop and roll – only to realise the flames aren’t causing him any damage. For a joyous moment, he almost thinks he has access to his dying will flames again – before the fire dims, and he realises he’s accidentally activated Endeavour’s quirk. However, whatever he did before waking up eludes him, there’s no repeat no matter what he tries.

However, now that he knows he can use them, it changes things. Even if it’s only for less than two days, he doesn’t like leaving any possible advantage unused. So, time to rope in the one person in this house who can help. He vaguely remembers Touya pointing out his own room, and starts banging on the door.

“Oi, brat, woke up on fire, time for the student to be the teacher,” Xanxus yells, banging on the teen’s door. “Want to see if I can get these flames functioning. Curious to see how it works.”

There’s a thump from inside, and a very panicked “coming!” from inside. A few seconds later, the door slams open, and Touya very quickly tries to slide it shut.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you’d be up so early,” he says. “If we head to his study I can-”

Xanxus silences him by grabbing the collar of his turtle-neck. There’s a weird powder on the neckline – the kind Lussuria ends up with whenever the Varia don’t give him enough time to change before an event.

“Didn’t take you for the makeup type,” Xanxus notes, and frowns as the boy’s face looks terrified...but doesn’t lose any colour.

Wait…

He releases the teen, and then slams the door to his room wide open, stepping in heedless to Touya’s panicked request to stop. A quick glance, and his eyes lock on a desk in the corner. It’s covered in cosmetics, and while he’s never bothered with them, he’s learned enough via osmosis from Lussuria’s constant squealing to know it’s expensive, and mostly crap used for stage makeup. Some Varia use it to go undercover when necessary.

Xanxus walks closer, ignoring the high pitched desperation and Touya’s desperate tugging of his arm to take a better look. He grabs one of the pot’s, which is half empty. It’s some kind of matt putty, designed…

...designed to hide scar tissue.

The pot falls to the ground and he twists his upper body to stare at the teen at his side. Touya has gone silent ever since he grabbed the pot – and whimpers as Xanxus grabs him and drags the teen towards the window. His hand grasps Touya’s chin, roughly forcing it upwards, ignoring the flinch, and brushes the heavy bangs to the side with his other.

Now in the light of day, he sees it. Touya’s face is caked with makeup. Very well applied, difficult to notice if you don’t look too closely, but heavy enough that it’s clearly hiding something rather than enhancing his looks. There’s also something distinctly ‘off’ about certain parts of his face – like it’s artificial.

Fuck. How did he miss that? Stupid fucking world, he never would have gone a whole damn day without catching that back home!

He drops the chin, and clamps a hand around the boy's wrist.

“W-wait, what are you-Stop!”

Xanxus ignores him, yanking him forward as he storms towards the bathroom. Touya struggles the whole way, but he keeps his grip tight, ignoring the teen’s protests as he throws the door to the bathroom open, and with his free hand, pulls the heavy turtle-neck. off before slamming the handle of the shower down. Cold waters gushes out, and he all but throws Touya under it, ignoring the yelps and pleading.

As expected, his face changes dramatically, the makeup sagging under the onslaught, and Xanxus brings his hands up, wiping away the bulk. But even he’s taken back when a significant chunk of the teen’s chin shifts, revealing that it had been some kind of putty – the sort of thing performers used to change their facial features – underneath it. Once it’s gone…

Fuck, the brat’s even worse than he thought. Burns under his eyes, and pretty much everything from his lower lip to above his ribcage is ugly, melted purple. Back home he’d be wondering how the hell the guy was still alive – he can’t possibly enjoy eating with his throat messed up like that.

Almost subconsciously, he lets his hand brush against the teen’s chin, and he almost throws himself back on the tiles to get away, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Stop it!” he screams, hands coming up to hide his face, and Xanxus feels his fury rise when he realises Touya’s arms are sagging with the same skin putty.

“Get it off,” he growls. “All of it.”

Touya ignores him, curling up on the tiles and sobbing. Or at least trying to – his tear ducts are clearly gone. Xanxus gives him a few moments to shake it, but when he remains huddled away, curses and kneels down. The teen fights him, but he’s currently vulnerable, and Xanxus makes short work of the rest of the disguise.

What’s left has even him feeling sick. It would be easier to list what parts of the flesh aren’t melted. Arms, legs, chest, basically everything but his hairline and his cheekbones on his face – even for an experienced Mafioso, that kind of damage, especially on someone not in the trade, is hard to swallow.

“So, when you said ‘critical damage’ and overtrained, you meant he literally melted the skin of a guy with a fire quirk?” Xanxus says, voice low and fatal. “Do I even want to know how hot it has to get before you can be this affected?”

Touya is breathing heavily, the terror fading for raw exhaustion. This time, Xanxus gives him space, leaning against the bathroom wall.

“Why...” Touya whines, once his breathing is back under control. “What the hell is wrong with you? How could you-”

“How. Hot. Trash?” Xanxus repeats. Touya looks at him with something resembling hate, and he lifts his hand, allowing a blue flame to emerge from his fingers. Even from this distance, Xanxus can feel the heat, and nods in understanding. He looks around, and grabs a towel, tossing it at the boy on the ground.

“Dry off, get dressed, and don’t even think about covering them up again,” he warns. “Then we go to work.”

* * *

In the end, he has to drag Touya out of the bathroom, and the teen point blank refuses to talk to him. No matter how hard Xanxus insults or presses, the ruined lips just purse, biting down on his tongue. He guides Xanxus to Endeavour’s study, and grabs some video media so Xanxus can have a look at how the flames are supposed to work.

The answer, by the way, is as flashy and obscenely inefficiently as possible. No matter how hard he looks at it, there’s absolutely no functional reason to have flames constantly flaring from his chin, but the man does. In fact, a brief look at the man in action makes it pretty clear that Touya’s most drastic burns are all in places Endeavour keeps alight when working.

...And there goes any remaining guilt Xanxus has about screwing this Endeavour guy’s life over.

“You’re going to have to talk to me eventually Trash,” Xanxus remarks, once the video is over. He looks at his hand, and tries to coax out the fire. Unfortunately, while the videos were thorough, there was nothing about how to bring them out. “Not leaving till I get an intentional spark.”

Touya just stays silent, arms crossed and stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes. Xanxus frowns – then sags. Time for some honesty.

“When I was your age, I tried to kill my father.”

Touya straightens, and he turns to stare. Xanxus gives him a bitter smile.

“I failed, and as punishment, I got locked in solitary confinement for the next 8 years, and a body covered in scars. Which hurt like shit whenever it gets cold, or I’m pissed, or even fucking breath sometimes.”

“What did he do to you?” Touya asks, and Xanxus scoffs.

“He lied,” Xanxus answers. “Gave me hope I had no right to have, and then got confused that I was mad.”

Subconsciously, his hand scratches his cheek – he hadn’t quite realised how much it wasn’t hurting until now. “Afterwards, I had allies, trying to help me out. Wanted to help me heal the scars, of cover them up. I told them to jump out a window. Those scars are proof of who I am, and what I did.”

“But I didn’t choose this,” Touya says, voice quiet. “This was done to me.”

“Then own it, Trash,” Xanxus tells him. “Your old man caused your scars, but you’re the one who gets to decide how much they affect you. Bet he’s the one that tells you to cover up, right?”

“I- it’ll upset my family...”

“So? Last I checked, nobody in this family is checking on what’s making you upset.”

His stomach growls, and Xanxus stretches, heading for the kitchen again.

“Think about that for a while, Todoroki Touya. And then figure out how to help me make these flames work.”

* * *

That evening, he waits until all the brats are sleeping, before he starts making his way towards the kitchen. As expected, Rei is in there, wiping down the counters in an attempt to stay busy. He leans against the door frame to assess her for a second, but it’s clear she hasn’t spotted him.

“Drink?”

Xanxus rolls his eyes as the wife of his current host jumps two feet and swings around. He merely lifts the bottle he’d managed to find hidden in Endeavour’s study, and walks past, heading for a cupboard he can see glass tumblers tucked into.

“Found this hidden away in a locked desk drawer,” he says, pulling out the glasses. “Brand doesn’t exist in my world, but your internet says it’s expensive. Your brat Touya? Taught me how to use his old man’s fire quirk, and figure I’ll celebrate.”

“Enji won’t be happy about that,” Rei offers. “If he kept that in his study, he would have been saving-”

“Ma'am, I’ll be drinking this one way or another,” Xanxus interrupts, as polite as he’s willing to be. “You can either enjoy a glass and blame me when I get back, or watch me drink it, and still blame me when I get back. Your choice.”

He walks back through the house and heads for the living room. There are sliding doors looking out into the ludicrously elaborate garden, and Xanxus settles on the wood. At least the sky is still the same in this world. He twists the lid off, and pours a glass. Footsteps pad behind him, and he grins, pouring another glass and handing it over, Rei sitting down next to him. She spins the glass slightly, giving the amber liquid a quick sniff, before tilting her head and swallowing in a smooth action. Xanxus barks a laugh.

“Oh, someone knows how to handle the liquor.”

She drops the glass, and gives a sharp smile.

“I wasn’t always a housewife and mother, you know,” she says, and tilts the glass towards him. Xanxus gives her another round, and then drinks his.

“Smooth,” he comments. “Little sweet, but strong flavour. Not my usual preference, but not bad.”

Rei nods. “Enji did always have an eye for quality.”

“Unlike you,” Xanxus says, and she stills.

“Why the fuck are you still here?” he asks. “Your husband is trash, and everyone in this family knows it. There was a three day window for you to grab your bags and bolt, and you didn’t even consider it.”

“I...leaving won’t solve anything,” she defends.

“Oh for fuck's sake, even you don’t believe that,” he asks. “Your oldest is a walking candlestick, your daughter has the spine the consistency of paper, Whitey is heading straight for extreme middle child syndrome, and you know exactly what’s going to happen to two-tone-trash. Leave.”

Rei shakes her head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me, Trash,” Xanxus presses. “I come from a society without heroes and no woman there would think twice. One would think this shouldn’t be an issue here.”

His drinking partner glances over, an odd look on her face.

“Enji is a powerful man. His family was influential long before heroics, while mine have strong quirks but no lineage or money. Our marriage was considered was very advantageous for my family, but Enji wrote the prenup. I leave, he gets full custody, and I only get to take what I brought in, which as a housewife, means nothing.”

“Then don’t do it legally!” Xanxus snaps. “Walk out the door. Kids will happily follow you.”

That just gets a bitter laugh. “Enji will find us. He’ll have access to all security and law enforcement records. The media will turn me into a heartless bitch who stole his children. Not to mention the Quirk Registry.”

Xanxus nods in sudden revelation. “Right. Work and education. The whole damn country is registered...fingerprints or blood?”

“Fingerprints,” Rei admits. “Although some quirks mean people don’t have them.

And that might actually be the funniest thing Xanxus has heard in two days. He snickers into his glass, before knocking it back.

“So if you did run, you’d have to go completely underground,” he says. “Couldn’t take a legal job, couldn’t put the kids in any school. Not without some serious connections for fake ID’s.”

The school part is probably the deal breaker for the woman. Xanxus knows enough about Japanese culture to know how vital the right school is for their future. He doubts this world is any different – and while making ID’s is child’s play in his world, they’re not quite at the level of having a full registrar of the population (and never will if Vongola has any say in it).

“Shouto wants to be a hero,” Rei sighs. “And the opportunities the Todoroki name and connections will give Natsuo and Fuyumi are immense. If I run, Shouto’s dream dies, and they won’t be able to achieve half of what they could here.”

Xanxus fills another glass.

“And Touya?”

Rei stills.

“What options does he have here?” Xanxus presses. “From what I can tell, he has no friends, no hobbies, and thanks to his old man, no health. He’s been burned out, physically and mentally.”

Her hand’s tighten around the glass.

“I know I failed him,” she says. “But there’s nothing more I can do but make sure I don’t make the same mistakes with Shouto.”

“You could leave,” Xanxus repeats. “Brat’s already sacrificed everything, why not make the rest of the family pay for once?”

Rei doesn’t answer, and Xanxus scowls.

“But you won’t. Because Touya’s been taking it for so long, why mix things up now? Why mess with what works.”

The woman still doesn’t answer, but holds out the glass while her eyes stay forward. Xanxus complies, but Rei doesn’t drink it, merely keeping it close.

“Touya’s strong,” Rei says. “That’s probably the only thing he got from Enji he appreciates. If he’d taken more after me, he wouldn’t have made it.”

She turns then, and gives him a bitter smile. “I am not a good woman, Xanxus. Maybe I could have been, but I’ve let people dictate my life for the good of the majority for as long as I can remember. I don’t know how to break free.”

She knocks back the glass and stands.

“My only wish, Xanxus, is that my children are smarter than me. Smarter and stronger. Please finish the bottle.”

She walks away, soft footfalls heading towards her bedroom. Xanxus doesn’t watch her leave, looking at his glass, before he throws it into the sky and aims. A line of searing hot fire bursts from his hand and hits it, shattering the fragile glass into pieces on the ground. Xanxus mentally claps himself on the back, and starts drinking from the bottle.

Well, nobody can say he didn’t _try..._

* * *

The next morning, Rei gives him a message for the Hero Agency her husband owns. They’ll be coming to pick him up in the afternoon, so that Endeavour will return in a safe environment and be properly debriefed. It’s probably a smart move, considering there’s no telling exactly what the man has been through on the other end. Xanxus guarantee’s he comes back screaming and on fire.

But there’s still several hours before then, and he drags Touya in the training rooms.

“Now that I’ve figured out how they work on my end, I kind of want to see what they look like on you,” Xanxus explains. “Hand to hand first, till we get the rhythm, and then bring out the arson.”

Touya nods, and Xanxus starts testing the waters.

After a few minutes, he’s insulted. Touya’s martial arts prowess is non-existent, and his own muscles are straining in ways they shouldn’t be.

“Are you fucking kidding me with this?” Xanxus snaps, pulling back and giving his arms a stretch. “Do you only practice with your quirk? What the hell do you do when you fight someone who has an advantage over fire?”

Touya is breathing heavily, but shrugs. “You power through. Plus ultra. Besides, not a lot can stand up to a couple thousand degrees heat.”

Xanxus raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like something criminals say. How is that legal?”

“The world is used to quirks,” Touya defends, and Xanxus rolls his eyes.

“Oh for – fine,” he says, and lets Endeavour’s fire quirk activate on his arms. “Flames then.”

His eyes widen when Touya smiles, and all four limbs start burning with a sheer blue flame that raises the temperature of the room by at least ten degrees in an instant. There’s no mistaking them for rain flames – even with Endeavour's resistance, Xanxus can feel the sweat starting to build.

“Now that’s more like it,” he offers, and sends a shot the way he’s seen Endeavour do on screen.

For ten minutes, Xanxus pushes Touya as much as he can. He’s still very new to these flames - which will burn no matter what he does, and have no disintegration factor – but even without muscle memory he far eclipses the teen in short-range combat. And with his scars, Touya can’t burn at his top temperature when Xanxus is too close without getting caught in the crossfire himself. By the time Xanxus is starting to feel the strain, Touya is gasping, reacting instinctively to his moves rather than any thought out strategy. Something that’s working well for him, if the minor burns on Xanxus’s arms are anything to go by.

Which means it’s time to get to the final act. Touya’s riled up, adrenaline pumping, unable to stop and think. The perfect time to push the knife. He stops, and stands at his full height, wearing the most mocking smile he can at the teen.

“Wow, if this is the best you can do after what? Ten years of training? It’s no wonder he dumped you.”

Touya jerks as if he was punched, and looks at Xanxus with wide eyes.

“What?”

Xanxus laughs. “Oh, now that I’ve seen you in action, I get it,” he says. “You were the prototype, giving him a chance to fuck up before he went on to the final result. Bet he never had any plans to let you succeed no matter what you did.”

The flames double in size, and Xanxus jumps out of the way as they start flickering wildly.

“Shut up!” Touya snarls. Xanxus just circles round, and punches the boy in the back of the head with a punch. He screams and rolls across the ground, jumping up and sending a flame that nearly ignites the wall.

“Don’t worry,” Xanxus mocks. “Nothing wrong with being a failure. Or a worthless cast-off. Least your father learned what not to do.”

“You shut up!” Touya howls. “You don’t know anything! Just die!”

He sends a jet of molten blue straight at Xanxus, and he barely makes it out of the way.

Oh, now that’s beautiful…so close.

“What a loyal son,” Xanxus mocks. “Protecting his father’s legacy even now. A sacrifice for the younger generation. You must truly love your father if you’re defending what he did to you.”

The teen’s eyes grow murderous, and Xanxus feels himself smile in triumph at the next words.

“I don’t! I want to kill him!”

The second the words leave his mouth, the blue fire vanishes, and Touya freezes, looking like he’s in a state of shock.

“I...I want to kill him,” Touya repeats, looking at Xanxus, looking half-crazed at the epiphany.

“Really?” Xanxus asks. “That all?”

Touya shakes his head. “No...I...”

He raises his hands in front of him, and clenches them into fists, a madman’s smile creeping onto his face.

“I want to take everything he cares about and let it burn before his eyes. I want him to feel the despair I did, and put him down like a dog.”

Xanxus grins in delight.

 _‘There we go_.’

“Your father screwed you over ten ways over and back,” Xanxus tells him. “He dangled a prize in front of your nose only to yank it back at the last second. You’ll carry the scars of his actions for the rest of your life, and he fully expects you to step to the side to let others take what was always yours. Why should you have to accept that? When does what you want matter?”

“How do I do it?” Touya asks shakily.

“You can start by admitting you don’t give a fuck,” Xanxus tells him. “Stop hiding who you are. Think about your needs and not what everyone in this house wants. Embrace the monster that you became to survive. Figure what you want, and give the old man the middle finger all the way to his grave.”

The manic look starts to fade in Touya’s eyes. “I can’t beat him yet.”

Xanxus just scoffs.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “A dream is only worth the effort put into it. Now that you’ve stopped holding back, you finally know the road to take.”

He punches one flaming fist into the other.

“Now, I’ve got a few hours before that Hero Trash take me away for the quirk to wear off, so let’s get to work. Since you've been so truthful with me, why don't I return the favour. Starting with my _real_ line of work...”

* * *

Later that afternoon, Endeavour’s hero agency was getting ready to send out a car when to their shock, the man currently possessing their No. 2 shows up on their doorstep.

“What- Mr Xanxus! You were not supposed to leave the Todoroki residence!” the aide wails. Xanxus ignores him, heading straight for the lift.

“Yeah, well, I got bored,” he says.

“You should have called!” the aide whines, following him inside. “The security issues-”

“Look, one of his brats escorted me into town,” Xanxus interrupts. “It’s not like I was out alone. And in a few minutes I won’t even be here any more, so relax Trash.”

The man does not relax, and by the time Xanxus finds himself back up in the penthouse office, he’s practically worked his way up to a panic attack. He ignores him in favour of the heavy chair he’d sat in two days previous, and swings it round to look out the window. From what the menagerie he’d been questioned by a few days ago suggested, he should just feel a sharp pull, and a second later, find himself snapped back into his original body.

He looks out at the view, and smirks. It’s really is too bad he couldn’t convince Rei to up and run, but honestly, she’s barely holding it together as is. That story won’t end well. Maybe if he’d been here longer, and after working Touya, had time with the other brats...but, well, he’s laid the foundations.

Something starts to twinge in his chest, and he sags into the fabric, lifting one hand and raising the middle finger so he can see the reflection in the glass. It’ll be the first thing Endeavour sees when he returns.

As he feels the sharp pull, and the world goes black, he dearly hopes Endeavour enjoys his gift...

* * *

When Xanxus comes to, Lussuria is standing over him, wearing a priest’s outfit, grinning like a loon, and there’s a drill aiming for his eyeball.

“I told you Ghosty, you need to stay still!” his Sun is chiming. “Don’t want to slip here.”

He immediately erupts into Wrath flames, disintegrating the chair he’s tied to and sending everyone in the room flying into the walls.

“DON’T YOU EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT IT HOMO-TRASH!”

When he calms down and lets the flames drop, he quickly takes stock. He’s unarmed, still in the Varia uniform, but there are signs that he’s been restrained by the ankles and wrists, and a bad taste in his mouth that suggests a gag. All expected.

“I swear, Trash, if there is one fucking scar I don’t recognise, I am cutting off limbs,” he warns, scanning down his arms. They’re surprisingly wet, and – is that an empty bottle of holy water on the desk?

He doesn’t have time to think about it – because his officers are suddenly back on their feet and flying towards him.

“...BOSS!”

“Voi! Where the fuck have you been!”

“You owe me 50,000 euros for every day I’ve had to deal with him.”

“You’re back! Everyone our darling boss is back! Told you it would work!”

He rolls his eyes and refrains from flaring up again as his officers dogpile on him.

“Yeah, yeah, I missed you too, Trash,” he growls. “Now get the fuck off!”

* * *

“YOU LEFT A MURDEROUS PSYCHOPATH WITH MY FAMILY???”

“W-we didn’t know he was a-”

“How could you not tell? Every single one of my captors was insane! He couldn’t possibly have been any better. If anything happened to my family I’ll take it out of your hide!”

“I have Mrs Todoroki on the phone! She says he was a perfect gentleman! Kept to himself...mostly-”

“Give me that phone! Rei? Rei, is everyone okay? He didn’t do anything to you or Shouto or the others?”

…

…

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T FIND TOUYA?”

* * *

Across town, in a cheap motel, a teenager dries his hair with an old towel, before dropping it to the ground and lifting his head to see the now black locks sticking up from his head. He grins and tosses the remaining dye and its box in the bin, walking into the bedroom to change. It’s more delicate than he expected – he has to be mindful of his ears and his nose, both still stinging from the new piercings he’d received just a few hours ago, paid for by hawking Endeavour's old gloves to a pawn shop that didn’t ask questions. The piercer had been apprehensive over giving him more than one, but considering the state of his face, it hadn’t been hard to argue that he could handle the pain, especially with the menacing Xanxus over his shoulder.

He is a little sorry he couldn’t find a fire-proof leather jacket though. It would have been nice to honour his role model with his threads, although Xanxus had said his was part of a uniform. And Tou...and he doesn’t really have a cause that requires a uniform yet. Maybe one day that’ll change.

Besides, he thinks Xanxus would approve of the blue. It matches him quite well, and will always remind him of his father’s uniform. A constant reminder of his dream.

To kill Endeavour. To free this world of him and all the heroes like him.

His efforts all prove to be worth it when he walks down the stairs, and the receptionist double takes, barely recognising him. Gone is the shy redhead wearing badly applied makeup to hide his injuries. Now a black haired teen is standing tall, his outfit doing nothing to hide a single burn on his body.

He is never going to be ashamed of what he is, ever again.

The receptionist, to his credit, recovers well.

“Checking out?” he asks, large hooked claws flicking through the book he’d signed the day before. “Name of-”

“Dabi,” he says, walking over and scribbling something that could be recognised as such. He doesn’t offer a last name, and the man doesn’t request one.

“Oh, one last thing,” Dabi says, tossing the pen back. He digs into a pocket and pulls out a decent wad of notes, that he dumps onto the desk.

“A tip?” the receptionist asks, somewhat warily. ‘Dabi’ smiles.

‘An apology,” he says. “For the fire.”

“What fire?” the receptionist questions, only for the teen to pull back and walk out the door. His head glances upwards at his room, where he can already see the smoke billowing out the crack in the window. Even with the warning, by the time authorities get here, anything that could trace Todoroki Touya will have been cremated. It’s the best death he can give himself.

A few blocks down, and he starts to hear the sirens. He smiles, and just keeps strolling, ignoring every double take at his appearance as he whistles a tune.

There’s a brand new road for him to walk.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been on Tumblr forever, but since Corona has everyone desperate for entertainment, thought I'd transfer it here even though I haven't quite got the kinks of part 2 fully figured out yet. 
> 
> (Also, given how the manga has been going, thought it might be best to get this published before canon sets alight everything I've written so far!)


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